Hero
by Ki-hori-e-te-ao
Summary: Song fic, using Superchicks Hero. Trigger Warning: Self-harm, Abuse, Substance Abuse, Bullying and Suicide.
1. Chapter 1

Sawada Fuuta sighs, pushing his sandy hair from his face, it was in vain, because a second later he was glaring at his defiant hair once again.

"Ne, ne... That's Dame-Tsuna's otouto, right?"

"Hai, I heard he is weirder than his brother, always ranking things, such a creep,"

Biting his lip, he kept himself from shouting at the perpetrators. Ever since he was in primary, kids we're like this. Even at thirteen, he was still ignored and treated as an outcast. A pencil's shot at his back and the grip on his pencil tightened. Anger pulsed through his veins, but he stubbornly tried to finish his set-work.

_'The angle we have to find is h, h is in middle of G and F. This angle, is GIF+h. So if we minus h from'- _His trail of though cut off by a paper ball thrown to his skull. Wide Oak eyes flickered up and Fuuta saw Gesso-san, a forced smirk on her face. Fuuta couldn't help the helplessness he felt when staring into her cold, cyan eyes, because the strings of fate seemed to think making his crush, his bully, was tragically romantic. Or, that's what his cousin Federico told him when he confided it to the elder Vongola. Gesso-san gave him a glare, but he saw the way she tightened her grip on her pencil and the thin frown on her face, she didn't really want to bully him and that's why he still liked her. Because behind that bullying façade, was the kinder, level-headed person he met last year. Except, what he's seeing is still cruel, even if forced. Life sucks, he deduces swiftly, before snapping back into reality.

His teeth grit and he picks the paper up, already knowing an insult laid within. It invokes a different kind of anger in him, anger at himself. Scrunching the paper up more, he shoves it in his pocket, then he stands slowly, making sure his anger wasn't evident.

"Sensei, may I go to the restroom?"

His sensei nods, while he swiftly walks to the door, he's tripped by Giglio Nero-san near the exit. Giglio Nero-san laughs at hims shortly. Scrunching his eyes up in exhaustion, Fuuta wordlessly pushes himself from the ground, hurrying out the room. His speed walk increased to a sprint as he nears the boys restroom and he gazes down at the 'kana on the note. It's basically telling him, he's a creep. A dame like his Tsuna-nii. Telling him everything he already knows and furiously, Fuuta rips the paper up, resenting the perfect flow of Bluebell's katakana. Resenting the comparison to his brother, because it just reminds him that he'll never belong, he'll always be the outcast, the adopted child.

Suddenly an idea comes and he has no idea what the idea entails, just that it will help. It literally pops in to his mind, he has no clue what he's doing, he's just following the animalistic instincts from within.

Tugging at his school tie, Fuuta rips it off, unbuttons the top buttons of his white button down. Every taunt rang clear in the brunnets mind, as he wraps the tie around his fingers, then his neck. His thoughts are hazy and all he really knows is that he's angry, so angry at himself, for being such a creep, such a pushover. Each angry thought strikes him harder, his grip on his tie tightens and abruptly his air-ways are cut off. He's not aware of what he's doing. The brunette leans against the stalls cold walls, his sight blurring and his throat convulsing in an odd, uncomfortable way. He tries subconsciously to breathe through his nose. No breath leaves his mouth and it feels relieving, his anger dissipating. Fuuta's lips turn a pale shade of blue and his eyes begin to roll.

Just as abruptly as they'd been closed, his air-ways open and a gasps falls from his lips. Blinking back into reality, Fuuta feels calmer. Steadying his breath, he shakily re-buttoned his school uniform and redone his tie. Struggling to comprehend what he'd just done, all he knows is he feels placid, content. Calmly leaving the stall after his breakdown, he checks the mirrors and decides he looks perfectly fine. Assuring he looks impeccable, he scurries into class.

Too lost in pleasure, he didn't notice the alarmed look Nosaru threw his way, nor said persons intense focus on the glaringly red marks looping Fuuta's neck.

* * *

Bathroom trips became a regular thing to Fuuta. As did the red marks and purple bruises on his neck. Not that his family noticed, all he needed to do was wear a scarf and his oblivious mother and brother asked nothing, while his father was barely around enough to remember Fuuta's favourite colour, much less his fashion sense. No teachers said anything, so Fuuta is pretty sure what he is doing is right, even if eating, drinking and sometimes even breathing left his throat hoarse.

While Fuuta fell into his reprieve of self-hate, Nosaru continued to watch the younger Sawada in growing worry. So did Bluebell, she just didn't put things together as simply as the pinkette though. Begrudgingly, Nosaru felt himself wondering what to do with Sawada. He doesn't hate Sawada, he just doesn't like him either, but the disturbing thought of finding his peer dead informed him that something needed to be done.

The class room doors slid close again and Nosaru watches the infuriating smile cross Fuuta's face. It was always the same, Sawada leaves angrily and comes back arrogantly, a self-deprecating smile upon his face. Nosaru keeps watching, seeing the person in front of him aim a paper ball at the walking thirteen year old. Frowning, Nosaru wonders if he was such a forceful bully, Sawada does nothing but discreetly picks the paper up. Again, Nosaru feels unnecessarily angry, the brunette always took the bullying in stride.

Always. For the past month Nosaru had watched him, he never stood up for himself. Never got angry. He was always calm, when he looked anything but calm, he'd disappear to the bathroom, coming back with vivid marks looping his neck. It took Nosaru three weeks and two internet searches to find out what was happening. When he pieced it together, he felt nauseous. He still feels nauseous a week later as he watched Fuuta stroll into their Geometry class. Nosaru bit his lip, realising the only other class with Sawada today is art. Nosaru sighed, _'It's not my business,'_ he thought, watching others pointedly whisper about his introverted classmate.

* * *

Art came and Nosaru tries to focus on his painting, but he knows he's only stalling for when Sawada leaves. Per usual, fifteen minutes into class, Sawada leaves. Sawada's painting ruined, a shame because the night sky he painted is awesome. A student had bumped his elbow on purpose and caused a streak of white to go through the paint, it's beyond saving. Not for the first time, Giglio Nero Nosaru is angry as Sawada calmly excuses himself. Except, a week of suspicion has left him tense and as Sawada strolls out of the class, knuckles white, Nosaru finds himself standing. He mutters an 'excuse me sensei', while leaving and makes sure to bump into the student who messed Sawada's work up. The student falls to the ground, disbelief evident on his face. Not that Nosaru cares.

Nosaru furiously tears down the hallway, skirting to a halt at the boys restroom. He breathes in and his choice made. He opens the door.

* * *

"Oi, Sawada! Come out here!"

He screams into the restroom. A clatter comes from the last stall and Nosaru blindly kicks the door open, unprepared for the sight that greets him. Sawad-, no Fuuta kneels in front of him, gun in hand and Nosaru's first thought, is when did he get it? It's answered by the black messenger bag at his feet. The next question is, what do I do? This one isn't so simple, so he follows his instinct and dives down, quickly flinging the gun from the shell-shocked brunnets hand.

"What are you doing here?" Fuuta's voice is scathing, hoarse.

Nosaru glares at the brunnet, hits the gun so it's further away from them and answers gruffly.

"Obviously saving you from being an idiot."

Fuuta glares up at him, mumbling.

"I wasn't going to use it..."

"Ne?... So then why have the gun?"

"..."

Sighing, Fuuta replies, his tear-streaked cheeks against his knees, muffling his voice.

"What?"

"I-I don't know... Okay? I don't know what's going on, all I know is that I'm filled with hate and it hurts. It hurts so much that I can't take it and I think I'm going crazy. Okay! Does that answer your pathetic question!"

Nosaru grimly winced at his peer. Breathing deeply, he sits up and leans against the wall, staring at Fuuta's soft, billowy hair. The restroom is quiet, the only sound is the water that dripped from the taps.

"Why are you even here? You hate me, right, Giglio Nero-san? So what are trying to accomplish?"

This is said in a whisper, the boys still somber.

"I don't hate you," Nosaru said after a long pause, "I admit, I think you're a little weird, but I don't hate you... And I definitely don't want to see you dead."

Fuuta laughed softly, the type of laughter that saddens people.

"It's nice to know, that out of the thousands occupying Namimori, one person doesn't hate me." His voice was mocking.

"You're kaa-san doesn't hate you, neither does Tsunayoshi, Sasagawa-senpai doesn't hate anyone..." Nosaru's voices drew out softly

"I'm adopted, my real parents hated me enough to just abandon me," he admits rather hesitantly, " and it seems I can create miracles then, because I'm sure Sasagawa-senpai doesn't like me."

Nosaru's hand flew to Fuuta's head, and Fuuta glares at his bored, too bored looking to actually be bored, classmate. All he gets back from the pinkette is a grin. The grin widens, before he finally decides to elaborate.

"Baka-Fuuta, just because someone doesn't like you, it doesn't mean they hate you."

"Really? I thought that was exactly what the word means," Fuuta bites back.

There's a silence, before Nosaru starts laughing crazily. He bows down, hand clutching his stomach and tears pool from his pink eyes, before he looks up at the brunette, genuine amusement in his eyes.

"You know what, Fuuta-san? You're interesting, be my friend."

Fuuta's eyes widen and he feels slightly excited and completely stunned. He blinks owlishly and watches as Nosaru continues to smile at him, his grin small and slightly creepy.

"Eh~?"

Fuuta's face is promptly pressed down to the floor, Nosaru's grinning down at him, lightning crackles behind him as he laughs evilly. Sweat drops down Fuuta's face as he sends a skeptical look towards the pinkette. If anything, the skeptical look made his laugh heartier, he looked like some evil anime character.

"Fufufufufufu, I've got it! You're my best friend now, Sawada Fuuta! So if you do dame stuff, then I'll just have to beat you up until you stop! Fufufufufu."

A muffled laugh leave Fuuta's hoarse throat and he feels pretty happy.

"Hai, hai Nosaru-san, can you get off me now?"

Nosaru complies and they leave the room.

And things aren't completely better, but they're changing and that change, it feels... Right.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurokawa Hana looks out the classroom window, her face carrying the perpetual scowl she'd mastered. The teacher over-looks her bland sign of disrespect, not wanting to be the victim of her poison-edged tongue and hard glare. Students in class pointedly look in another direction, too scared to look at her. A soft sigh leaves her mouth and her eyes fall down to her sleeves. She fiddles with the sleeve's buttons, feeling slightly hurt. Life was boring and lonely, Hana found it becoming increasingly tedious to drag herself out of bed.

A stupid joke catches her attention, dark eyes glower at the monkey who said the joke. Before her gaze falters at the fear he exudes. Cursing herself, Hana quickly grabs her pencil and fiddles with it, ducking her face from view and hiding behind a curtain of hair. It's not that she was always mean, it's just that monkeys like her classmate annoy her too much for her to hold back.

"I heard Dokuro-san went to a love motels, but get this, with three guys! All university students too."

A monkey behind her whispers loudly and Hana's glower increases. Her pencil snaps at the pressure and she hears a murmured, "Scary~". Biting her lip, she deduces that everyone here are monkeys. Their brain cells probably shrivel each day, she thinks vindictively.

"E-eto, isn't Kurokawa-san scary~? I heard she's an Oni."

"T-t-t-those are just rumours, hahaha,"

"Eto, I heard those rumours too, apparently she's the Daimaou-sama's heiress, that's why we never see her tou-san."

"Urusai! What if she hears you?"

Hana glares down at her sheetwork, squinting to read the awkward English letters. She sighs in defeat, too angry to read and throws the paper down

"Mokeys," she mutters, fingers clawing at her covered wrist.

Inconspicious crimson seeps onto her school uniforms top, not that anyone, even herself, cared enough to see it.

* * *

"Tadaima."

Hana's voice rang about the home, not that anyone was home. Slipping her shoes off and her slippers on, Hana walked up to her room, not bothering to check if anyone was home. No one was ever home. Trying in vain to calm down, she takes a deep breath, but she'd waited all day and being calm wouldn't help, not now. Briskly striding to her bedroom, she rips her uniform top off, leaving her in a blue singlet and her school skirt. Going through her closet, she grabs her make up bag and flings it on the bed.

Quickly sitting on her bed, Hana opens her make up bag and tips its content out. Disinfectants, gauze, tape, pins, plasters and shiny, silver scissors come tumbling out by the dozen. Hana yearns to just grab the glinting metal, but she's too smart to just let emotions over-take common sense, she grabs an alcohol wipe and cleans the dried blood and patchy skin, while she clears a space for the ones coming. Grabbing the pure, completely metal scissors, Hana unfurls it against her wrist. Already scabbed and red, she presses the scissors against an empty patch on her upper-wrist. Swiftly she makes one incision on her arm. It takes a few seconds for the pain to register and all at once her tense shoulders sag, her head dips back and she looks up at the ceiling. A sting throbs in her upper arm and she looks down at the bubbling blood, her hair falling in front of her face. Uncaring of her hair, Hana's eyes lose focus.

Her hands move in a familiar pattern. The metal presses against her skin again and the sting is in her body before the blood bubbles up again. But another straight, beautiful laceration's added to her skin. It's so enthralling, watching the blood flow slowly from her skin. Another cut, a wince. Cut. Gasp. Slice. Deep-breath. Blood. C-

Before a seventh laceration is added, a slam sounds out and Hana quickly stuffs everything back in the make up bag, before locking her door and leaning against it, listening out for her mother. Her mother's voice resound about the house.

"Hana?"

"Okaewari, Okaa-san!"

"Hai, Tadaima."

They speak no more, she hears her mother walk to the master bedroom. When the door closes, Hana lets her shoulders sag in relief, before she looks down at her arm. Maybe, just one more, she thinks, yearning to mutilate her arm. To cover it, drench it in blood. Biting her lip, Hana throws the bloodied scissors down, the blades practically burning her fingers.

Shaky, frail ivory fingers grasp a bottle of disinfectant. Shuddering, she pours it on cotton, proceeding to clean her crimson arm. The disinfectant stings against her wounds. She doesn't care.

A picture clatters to the floor ominously. Two middle schoolers smile up in the photo booth, one filled with joy, the other calm, but still happy. A crack splits the blown up picture. She doesn't care. Or at least, that's what she tries to convince herself.

* * *

Two months later a raven haired teen gazes down at her phone. She sits, gazing at the familiar numbers, pointedly ignoring the box of Acetaminophen to her left and the scissors next to it. Finally, Hana gave in to her desire. Hana's fingers shake as she presses call.

"C'est de la part de qui?"

Hana hesitates, forcing herself to remember her classes with Kyoko.

"C'est de la part de Hana," she says hesitantly a heavy accent to her voice.

"Allô, Hana, como t-Ah, I mean, Hai, Hana-chan? What're you calling for? It's been a while."

Hana feels jealous at the smooth transition Kyoko makes, but the jealousy is quickly over-shadowed by the joy of hearing her best friend. It was a year and a half ago, that Kyoko went to France, taking a student scholarship to culinary school. A year and a half since she had heard her voice. Biting her lip, Hana fiddles with her sleeves and sighs to keep herself from breaking down.

"Nothing, Kyoko, I've just been, well you know, bored, so I was wondering how you're doing."

Kyoko replies, her voice soft as ever, delightfully surprised.

"Eto, I've been fine, France is a beautiful place, but I miss you and Onii-san."

"Hai, hai. I miss you too, I've been constantly surrounded by monkeys since you left."

"Hana-chan should give others a chance, I hate to imagine Hana-chan all alone."

She sounds genuinely worried and Hana can't help the tears that fall, because Kyoko had hit the nail on the head with the worry, Hana's alone without her best friend and living is becoming so hard. Life is too pressuring and all her time is spent studying, so she doesn't disappoint her parents. But it's so exhausting and Hana cries futilely covering her phone, hoping Kyoko doesn't hear her soft sobs.

"Ne? Hana-chan? Hana-chan!? Daijobu!? Hana?"

Hana holds her phone to her ear, eyes rimmed red. Weakly, she takes another breath before replying. Her voice miserable, her excuse weak.

"Daijobu, Kyoko. Just had to do something for Otou-san, gomen ne,"

She forces a soft laugh out, hoping to placate her friend.

"Hana-chan shouldn't lie, but I won't push her if she doesn't want to tell, so I'll wait patiently. Anyway, how have you been, Hana-chan?"

Hana sniffs, rubbing her nose against her cardigans sleeve, before replying.

"I've been lonely without you," she admits, clutching her cell for dear life,",I've tried to entertain myself, but it's hard being without you so suddenly..." She trails off uncertainly.

"Hai, I've been a little lonely too, but then I remember all the good times together and I'm happy," Kyoko chirps happily.

"Un... Hey, Kyoko... Do you, do you remember when I kicked Mochida's ass after he tried to come on to you?"

After that, the pills get put away in a box, tucked under all her clutter, as do the scissors and make up bag, all the while, the two girls reminisce on the phone.

It was nearing their fourth hour talking, when they showed signs of hanging up.

"Shitsurei shimasu, Kyoko."

"E-eto! Hana-chan, before you hang up, can you promise me you will try to befriend someone? Please?"

Silence takes over for a short while, before Hana replies, nodding her head alongside her reply.

"Hai... I'll try, Kyoko."

* * *

The next few days pass, Hana keeping the promise in her mind when urges become too much. She's trying to live for Kyoko, trying to act nicer. So far, Hana had forced three smiles on her face and hadn't called anyone a monkey since the phone call. It's annoying, but she promised to try. People still acted overtly cautious of her. But, she kept to it. Walking, talking, smiling. It felt sickening, forcing herself not to snap at these idiots.

"Oi, Kurokawa!"

Wincing at the loud voice, Hana turns around to face the extreme annoyance in her life, wondering when he got back from Okinawa.

"Sasagawa," she says evenly.

"Good afternoon, to the extreme, Kurokawa! How have you extremely been!?"

Sighing, Hana drops her forced politeness, feeling comfortable enough around Sasagawa Ryohei, without the need of a farce front.

"Fine, Sasagawa. When did you return?"

"I extremely returned yesterday and go back in one more extreme day!"

She stops for a moment to digest the information. Also, she's slightly blinded by his smile and thumbs up routine, having not seen it for so long.

"Three days? What's the occasion? I thought your University is super strict?"

"My university is extreme! But, I'm extremely exhausted, so I am home for extreme relaxation!"

Glaring at his boisterous voice, Hana lets a small smile slip on to her face. It's comforting to talk to someone who doesn't shy away in fear. Fiddling with her cardigan sleeve, she watches him, before raising an eyebrow.

"So, what are you doing here? In the middle of town? You usually train when you come back to Namimori, why are you downtown?"

A scowl covers Ryohei's face, before he shouts his answer out.

"You extremely ask too many questions, Kurokawa. I am extremely doing some errands, for my extreme mother!"

Scoffing at Ryohei, she finally catches sight of the bags in his hands.

"Do you need any help? I was actually planning to visit Mama."

That's a lie.

"I appreciate this, to the extreme!"

He doesn't wait, before dumping the bags in her arms, then proceeds to jump on his feet and punch the air. Accustom to these antics, she simply adjust the bags, walking at a leisurely pace behind him.

"So, how's medic school?"

After Hana's innocent enough question, she's forced to listen to a rant, about the extremities of medical school. Walking with Ryohei, reminded her of nights when he refused to let her walk home alone. Of course, that had stopped two years ago, when he had left for Okinawa. By the time he got back for the Holidays, Kyoko had been so busy revising her French lessons, that Hana had found herself without the Sasagawa's company and in the rare time they were together, it never lasted too long. Nostalgia hits Hana hard as she thinks of middle school, because she honestly thinks that was the last time things were complete.

"Oi, Kurokawa, are you okay?"

He's unusually somber and they stop a good five meters short of his house.

"I'm fine, why?"

"You seem really subdued, more so than usual."

"I'm fine, just worried, my parents want me to try for Tokyo-U and we all know how hard that is..."

She trails off and pulls her sleeves down, tugging them as a distraction. Steely grey eyes stare her down, as though knowing she was lying.

"Really Sasagawa, it's nothing to worry about."

Nervously, she dismisses his worry, simultaneously convincing herself there's no reason to worry. Unconsciously, she tugs at her sleeve once again.

"Fifteen."

"...Nani?"

He sighs, before elaborating.

"That's the fifteenth time you've adjusted your sleeves in the last hour, what are you hiding?"

Frowning, Hana looks down. Four sentences without extreme, he's really worried.

Looking through her lashes, Hana's fingers go to tug at her sleeve, before she stops herself a few centimeters short. She doesn't really know what to say, so slowly she walks forward, going towards the Sasagawa household. Ryohei stops her from going far, his fingers dig into her upper arm and she is violently forced back.

Panic. That's all she can do. Panic. Glaring at her friend, her thoughts moved in a flurry, because wasn't he her friend? Why was he acting weird? What's wrong? Wrenching her arm from his grip, she hopes her arm isn't bleeding and tries to hide it into her body.

"What the hell's wrong with you!?"

"What's wrong with you? I get a call from Kyoko saying that you sounded weird on the phone and when I come back to see you, you're nothing but distant. What are you hiding? Why are you lying to us?"

"Just go away Sasagawa! Because you don't know anything and quite frankly I don't feel like telling you anything," her voice varied between a scream of panic and a violent whisper.

"Then stop lying to me, you're being kind and polite and this doesn't suit you, I've known you since you were six, I know that you're lying to me."

"Known me? You know what Sasagawa, you can take your concern and shove it somewhere else, because you don't know me!"

Before she could shout any further, Ryohei pulled her, her balance swayed and she fell into his awaiting arms. His steady beating heart thumps against her back. It felt, so good. But something was screaming at her to pull away, so she futilely struggled, even as his chest warmed her back. Because she didn't need this, suddenly tears were trailing down her eyes and she's once again forced to face Ryohei. He says nothing, grey eyes glinting in concern, before he wrapping his arms arm her, burying her face in the crook of his neck. It's so scandalous, a scene straight from a shoujo-manga, but she can't help but love this intimacy. This concern.

He doesn't really say anything, but they hug and she cries into him and it feels so good. Because she wasn't so alone and it felt so nice, having someone listen and hug her. Having someone. She imagines the embarrassment his neighbours felt, watching such public display of affection. But she can't help it, he's her brother and he wants to help. So she lets him. It's not like she confides her deepest secrets to him, but she does thank him and they end up cooking at the Sasagawa's house.

It's pretty fun, because they both can't cook to save their life, so the night's spent mocking each others dishes and bragging about their, extremely better than the others, cooking. Then, she watches him train in his old room and talk about nothing important, before she dozes off. She wakes up in his bed, while he sleeps on a futon near his boxing bag, it's a sweet gesture. It's a fun night.

Fun enough, that the next day, she throws out her make up bag.

It holds everything in it, her scissors, smaller, sharper blades, gauze, a mini first aid kit and her Acetaminophen. A drastic move, that took her hours to do, holding the bag above some polluted river, before she got the courage to drop it. But when it fell, she felt entirely better. Then, slightly worse, except, she knows she can get through it this time, without the scissors, razors and Acetaminophen.

_Heroes are made when you make a choice_

"Eh, Oshimura! Look at Dokuro, a'int she cute. I'd take her 'round on'ce a twice, e'rright?"

Two monkeys laugh obnoxiously near her school box. Eyes twitching, Hana slips on her school slippers and adjust her bag strap. The bell rings to signal school starting and she sighs deeply, annoyed at being late.

"Oi, matteo Dokuro, c'mon let's get out of here."

"E-e-eto, I'm running late, for c-c-class," a soft whisper catches her attention.

Whipping her head around, Hana is faced with two delinquents trying to force themselves upon Dokuro Chrome. They both stand on either side of her, while she fidgets uncomfortably. Hana sends a death glare their way, but they keep at it, oblivious to her icy gaze.

"Nani? High-school students to immature for yer liking, ya pompous bitch!"

At this, the thug goes out to pinch her chest, but is stopped by Hana. Angrily, Hana captures his wrist and twist it, holding it against his back.

"Yo, you neanderthals, get the hell away from here before I castrate you." Her whisper is deadly, Dokuro looks on in awe.

"Che, ya cocky bitch, think yer all dat, I'll knock yer off yer horse." The other thug says, lunging at her, but Dokuro interferes.

In a flurry of swift, elegant motions, the lunging thug's thrown to the ground by the petite indigo head. Watching on with a smirk, Hana sweep-kicks her thugs legs and pulls his head back, before giving a precise kick to his middle back then she lets him crumple in pain.

"Tch, pigs. Oi, Dokuro-san, where did you learn to fight like that?"

Hana's voice is soft yet demanding. She picks her messenger bag from the ground, proceeding to pat herself down in an attempt to clean her uniform.

"A-a-ah, my... my o-o-older brothers taught me how to fight, e-e-eto... Kurokawa-san, where did you learn how to fight?"

Dokuro stays rooted to her spot, despite needing to go to the same class as Hana.

"Sasagawa Ryohei taught me how to kick box," she scoffs, a hint of affection in her eyes.

Strutting forwards, she waits to hear the sound of muffled footsteps, hearing nothing, she turns slowly. Dokuro is fidgeting in the same spot she'd been since the thugs were knocked unconscious. All alone, she looked pretty, diminutive. Harmless and naïve, kind of like Kyoko.

"Ne, Dokuro-san, are you coming to class, we're already late, may aswell go together."

"H-hai. Eto... Kurokawa-san, domo-arigatou."

Hana waved the thanks off nonchalantly, waiting for Dokuro to near her. Stumbling forward, Dokuro met her pace and they walked forward.

* * *

Two weeks later, the two sat next to each other in home room, sharing soft laughter over an old story Chrome had told.

"Wait, so your brother, Chikusa, put cat food in your other brother, Ken's bento, because he was feeling 'charitable'." Hana snorted.

"Hai, K-ken-kun and Kakapi are really close, but they both have major cases of Tsundere and Kuudere behaviour." Chrome blushed at her words, fighting another bout of giggles.

"Chrome, not being mean, but you have a weird family." Hana deadpanned with a blank face, though her eyes danced in amusement.

Chrome ducked her face, her blush flashing to a darker crimson. Then, she twiddled her finger, a nervous habit Hana had recently noticed. Chrome did it often, always shy and hesitant of her actions. Waiting patiently, Hana raising an eyebrow at her friends actions.

"Eto... Hana-chan... We're friends right?"

"Hai, Chrome, of course we are."

Her words were just what Chrome needed, for after uttering them Chrome raised her head and resolutely stared into her friend's eyes. Determination in her gaze, Chrome spoke sharply, her voice still as soft-spoken as ever.

"Then will Hana-chan please meet my brothers. They very much want to meet my new friend and-" Chrome cut off, her blush rising to cover even her ears and darkening to an indescribable red, "p-plus, Hana-chan is the first friend I've had... So, please come meet my brothers."

Smiling, Hana squeezed her friend's shoulder softly.

"Of course I'll come meet your family, Chrome-chan."

Though their new friendship is still tentative and growing, it's alright. Because though they're different in personality, they kind of suit each other and privately, they both thought that being friends with each other, was better than being alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Bianchi cries out as Romeo pulls her hair back, their eyes meet in a furious glance. Bloodshot, blue eyes. Teary olive eyes. Their love is poison, she thinks as he spits curses at her face.

"Just stop lying, I know what I saw!"

"Yeah, what did you see big man!? Did you see me kiss him? Did you see me moan in pleasure? Did you hear me say I love you?" Her voice is hysterical.

"Shut up, you-you whore!" He screams throwing her body against the ground.

With a smash, the bedside table breaks and a bruise blooms on Bianchi's olive skin. A sudden bout of pain attacks her. Quickly getting off the ground, she glares in to her boyfriend's eyes, poison lacing her words.

"Yes, because that's all I am right!? An annoying, good-for-nothing whore! That's all I'll ever be to your frosted over heart, right? Well guess what Romeo, I don't even care anymore. I hate you!" As she screams, she raises objects near her and throws them with precise measure at him.

"God, you sociopath, just leave my life," He yells, enduring the hit of a vase with a slight flinch.

"Me, the sociopath!? Pot calling the kettle black!" She rages, more objects thrown at him.

Angry and annoyed, Romeo grabs her, carelessly man handling her out the door. Before she leaves, a firm smack stings his cheek and his lips split. Blood trickles down his face. A look of pure fury crosses his face as the blood falls down his lips.

"Screw you! You egotistical, good-for-nothing man-child!"

She slams the door, he catches a wisp of red hair and a soft whimper before it hits his nose. Scowling, Romeo storms to his kitchen and pours himself a tall glass of Alizae. He doesn't notice Lambo's curious glance at the blue drink. Romeo notices nothing, bar the heat pooling in his stomach as he downs another glass. Romeo is lost to the world, detached and cold.

An hour later, his older cousin Lampo sighs as he fixes his wounds. A split lip, several bruising, bleeding knuckles and a dislocated shoulder.

Three hours later, he's in front of Bianchi's door on his knees, apologising profusely.

Three hours and twenty-two minutes later, he lies on Bianchi's bed and they cuddle each other to sleep.

Their love is poison, he thinks tracing her tattoo and leaving butterfly kisses against her bruised shoulder. The scent of alcohol radiates of his lips, yet she ignores it, like he ignores the scent of cologne on her and the new hickey covering her neck.

His lips sting. Her shoulder aches. They cause each other pain.

* * *

A small group stand in the hospital hallway, each face darker than the next. Flurries of gossip and tainted lies reach their disbelieving ears. All have different thoughts, but the main idea is clear, this cannot be happening.

"W-what? How did this happen?" It was Squalo who asked this question, eyes wide with fright.

"It seems your cousin," the doctors address Xanxus, "has suffered from the abuse of his step-mother. From the looks of it, it's been going on for quite a while. The paramedics found him and his step-mother passed out, after a neighbour reported them to noise control."

" Why didn't he tell us?" Bianchi questions, leaning against the somber Romeo.

"I am afraid I can't answer that." The doctor answers in a brisk tone, walking away after a half-hearted apology.

The five young adults stand in mind-numbing shock, because Dino looked so normal. So happy, especially compared to all of their screwed up up-bringing and it didn't fit.

Only Romeo felt the choking guilt, because Dino had always hinted and Romeo is the most observant of their little group and why couldn't he see? Dino's such a passive-aggressive person, he could never hurt anyone, but like all of them, he had bruises. So many bruises and saddening smiles. Like all of them, he kept his secrets. Romeo wonders if it's their fault they don't know, if Dino just followed the road of secrets they treaded on. That they're all just following each other down a dangerous path.

Bianchi cries out, tears soaking his top. Despite breaking up two days ago, he holds her with all the love he can muster, bloodshot eyes gazing wistfully out a nearby window.

* * *

Three weeks later finds those terrifying ideas out the window as the group of six, six the perfect number for their group, is back together. Dino is finally released from the hospital and there is so much to be done, so much to be said, but right now they don't focus on a trial that's six weeks away, right now is about celebration, about happiness.

Xanxus, with his ridiculously rich father, supply the alcohol, even though they're all practically millionaires, Xanxus supplies because he has the best taste. Bianchi offers a summer-house her father owns and Romeo is stuck bringing the food and music, which is fine. Because their group is fine and they all know that Levi will bring shitty music if he's allowed to DJ. While Squalo can't cook anything other than fish, which isn't a party food, so both those responsibilities are dumped on him.

Bianchi's summer-house is intimidating, yet familiar and with only the barest of tweaking, the group find themselves drunk. Laughter is shared and it's a scene straight from the movie, even the prudent Xanxus and up-tight Levi relax. As Romeo leans back and sips a glass of vodka, he can't help but love it. Memories are ushered aside, in favour of a drink that burns in a delightful way.

They're all just young adults. All old enough to make their own decision and tonight, they decide they're free. From responsibility. Free from lies. From expectations. Family. Fighting. Guilt. With an ecstatic grin, Romeo downs a glass of Whisky and leads them into a night of pure, illicit fun.

Alone in one of the spare rooms, nine-year-old Lambo peeks out the window and listens to the laughing adults. Cerculean eyes narrow at the bottles, Lambo knows they're making everyone outside happy, he just wishes he knew what it was. Determined, Lambo vows to figure out what it is.

* * *

Twenty-nine year old Lampo sits in the living room of his younger cousins flat, a look of pure fury on his face, his usual lazy expression gone. Next to him a nine-year-old Lambo bows his head in shame. The door opens and Romeo swaggers into the room, a grin across his face.

"Eh, what do you want, Lampo?" Romeo asks nonchalantly, stopping in front of his elder cousin.

Looking up, Lampo's eyes narrow and he stands, stauch and furious.

"What do I want!? What do I want!? I want you to grow up. Look at the time, not even two pm and your stoned- Don't bother lying your eyes are red!- And where were you today? Huh? Lambo's school called and no one was home! You're supposed to look after your younger brother!" Before Lampo can keep his rant going, Romeo cuts in, walking so they face each other.

"How dare you accuse me of not looking after Lambo? I cook for him, I clean for him, I helped him bathe. I've cared for my little brother ever since Dad walked out on us, you can't accuse me of anything!"

A short laugh leaves Lampo's mouth as he glares down at his younger cousin.

"Hah! Care, wanna know why the school rang? Because that little brother you've been 'caring' for so much, he stole your alcohol and took it to school! _Dios_ Romeo! Did you not think to lock it!? Did you even think?"

Trembling with anger, Romeo grabs his older cousins shoulders and azure meets azure, Lampo's self-assurance ticking Romeo off more.

"Get out," Romeo scoffs.

Eyes narrowing, Lampo replies by shoving his younger cousin away easily.

"Fine, but until you get your act together, Lambo is living with me!"

From where he stands a confused Lambo raises his head in indignantion. Frantically looking around, he screams in protest.

"But you can't! Fratello tell him he can't! Fratello!"

Heaving a soft sigh, Romeo turns and lets Lampo take his little brother away.

_'I can do what I want,'_ he thinks, hands clenching.

Tears run down Lambo's face as he is yanked from his house, unprepared to leave his brother.

* * *

Four months later, finds Romeo standing before Italy's best Addiction Services Hospital.

"I'm sorry, I love you," Romeo whispers into Bianchi's hair, while the crimson haired beauty clung on to him.

"Promise me you'll be back. Promise me Romeo, because if you promise that, I swear I'll get better and we can start going out again. Like old times," Bianchi rambles, unwilling to let go of Romeo just yet.

"I promise," he kisses her hair," six months will pass before you know it and you can come over, then, maybe we could have dinner and stuff."

It feels weird he thinks, looking into Bianchi's eyes. Four years together and he can't remember the last time he's felt this scared walking away from her. Romeo takes three steps forward and turns, lightly pulling Lambo into his arms.

"I promise I'll be back soon Lambo, just...Just be good for Lampo, okay? I know he's a bit of a jerk, but be good, please?" Romeo looks into his brothers eyes regretfully.

Tearfully, Lambo slowly nods in agreement, biting back his lips as not to cry out. Reassured that everything was safe, Romeo nods to Lampo and makes his way into the Hospital.

* * *

Romeo spends the first few weeks in a slump of anger, everyday without his stash annoying him. Infuriating him, four times they restrained him due to his anger issues. Despite this unquenchable anger, he tries hard to repress his anger. Tries to get better. This is his choice and he will change for the better. He will.

That night he punches his fifth hole into his ward room and thrown his mattress against several walls, before he's restrained. This is his choice.

* * *

A smile, earnest and true covers Romeo's face as he walks from the Hospital. Finally, fourteen months later and he's out. Eight months later than he was told, but it's fine. Because he's clean. Four months clean, fully clean, no lying, no anger and life just seems a bit better. No pretending, no lying and pretences. He breathes in deeply, but a weight pulls him from his reverie.

"Fratello! I missed you!" Lambo cries into his shoulder, lithe legs lifting and twisting around his brothers waist.

"I missed you too," he croaks to his younger brother.

Suddenly, the fourteen months feel worth it. Like Romeo did something good with his life, something worth it. He tightens the embrace, refusing to let go of his younger brother just yet. His hear rate speeds up and he feels so happy. This is right.

Blue eyes flicker up, then widen as he sees her. She raises a pale hand and tucks a piece of crimson hair behind her ear, before smiling at him. Breathlessly, his lips twitch into a phantom smile and it's worth it. He did what's right. He's changed and he couldn't be happier. It'd be hell for a while now, but he'll get through it.

"Romeo-"

Her whisper reaches his ear.


	4. Chapter 4

"Dame-Enma, you're so useless!" A fellow peer shouts, throwing a stone at Enma.

The red head whimpers as a sliver of blood drips down his face. His cousin looks down at him, a frown marring her face, eyes freezing him.

"Weak," she murmurs turning away from him.

Four-year-old Enma watches Adelheid leave, whimpering as another sharp stone is thrown his way. In one swift flick of the wrist a stone slices deeply at his nose, blood falls quickly down his face and the bullies see white flesh, scared of getting caught, they run, leaving Kozato Enma with tears running down his face.

* * *

"Dame-Enma," Julie whispers from his spot behind a tree.

Glaring at his weakling cousin, he walks away uncaring to the yelps of pain Enma releases. Crimson eyes widen as eight year old Enma watches his cousin's figure disappears in the sunset.

Crystalline tears hit the ground as another fragment of his heart breaks.

"Kaoru...Can I walk home with you today?" Enma stutters out hesitantly.

The blonde looks back, a glare of annoyance upon his face. Shoving past the nine-year-old, Kaoru whispers angrily in his ear.

"Don't talk to me at school, Baka-Enma,"

Two lone tears fall down Enma's face as he watches his bullies near him maliciously. No one is there to save him, like always.

"Shitopi-chan, are you busy after school?" Enma ask hopefully.

Looking at him cold eyes, Shitopi doesn't grace him with an answer, before jumping away. The ten-year-old sighs as he feels something inside him snap.

"Loser!" Aoba Koyo shouts, holding Enma against the wall.

"You ruin everything!" The thirteen year old screams in anger, viridian eyes narrowing behind glasses.

"I'm...Sorry," Enma stutters out.

"Sorry!? I don't want your apologies! I hate you!"

Twelve-year-old Enma feels his heart shatter.

"Why do I have such a dame-onii-san!? I wish my brother was more like yours Aki-chan!" Mami whines into her cellphone.

Unbeknownst to the eleven-year-old, her elder brother stands outside her door, heart numb and frosted. No tears fall, not anymore.

* * *

Seventeen-year-old Kozato Enma sighed frustratedly as he limped home. Enma feels the anger pool inside him, bubbling with the heat of a volcano ready to erupt. It fuels him, controls him and Enma feels sick. Physically sick and over life, with a scream of frustration he kicks his house door open and walks towards his father's office.

No one is home to see his unusual, animalistic anger. Alone he wages a losing war and with no will to go on, he rips open his father's dresser draw. The room is left in disarray as he yanks papers, books and workfiles out. Pens get thrown around and another draw is ripped open. It takes him four tries to find the gun.

Trembling, he leaves the devastation in its wake, walking to his room in a zombie like stupor.

* * *

Enma doesn't write any notes, but he sends Rauji one last call, happily enough it goes to voicemail, he begins thanking the bulky teen for his friendship.

"Moshi, Rauji-kun... I-I know this seems weird, but I just wanted to thank you, you're-you're a great friend and I'm sorry you had to put up with a Dame like me for so long...I'm afraid I can't take living like this anymore, so this is Goodbye."

The beep resounds and with finality, Enma lowers his cellphone on to his bed. Ruby eyes scan the bare room one last time and Enma lifts the gun to his heart. One last, deep breath in, one last smile; then, he pulls the trigger and feels his anger melt away. He is free.

* * *

"Moshi moshi, Kozato-desu," Makoto answer his phone idly, watching as one of the paintings he found is auctioned off once again.

"Moshi Kozato-san, this is lieutenant Kuroo calling to confirm that you are the father and caregiver of one seventeen-year-old Kozato Enma, with a current residence in the Simon prefecture?"

"Hai," Makoto answers with trepidation, curious as to what his son had done to cause this phonecall.

"Then I apologise, as it is my regretful duty to inform you that your son was pronounced dead at four fifteen today, from the looks of it he committed suicide. He was found with a gun registered under your name, by your neighbour Nak-..."

Makoto drops his cellphone, unable to piece together the information he'd just received, this couldn't be true. Falling to the ground in shambles, Kozato Makoto feels his heart break. Feels it tear apart causing irreversible damage. Feels pain and hatred and unbeknownst to him, tears fall slowly down his face.

* * *

Upon Enma's desk in his home room class, a vase stands. In the transparent vase two Shigariku and one Suitopi flower stand, fresh and lively, the sun smiles down on the vase, wishing it well.

Strolling past Enma's old classroom, Koyo spares a glance at the flowers. If he feels his heart tear into two, he doesn't say it, nor does he express it.

At home, his boxing bag lays on the ground shredded to pieces as he expressed his self-anger. He wonders why he did nothing and all he hears, is Enma's voice stuttering out an apology, the last words he'd ever bothered hearing Enma utter. That was three years ago, he thinks fist clenched.

* * *

People feared Adelheid. People fear her, but she thought it was the right decision. Thought that maybe Enma could finally stand up for himself. Thought that since it wasn't her problem, she could ignore it, because her Enma needed to grow up. So she ignored it when others bullied him, even though she swore to protect him, because he needed to grow up, right?

Adelheids fingers shake as she looks down at her homework. She was right wasn't she? Tears trickle down her face, but the tears are thirteen years too late. Because she was wrong.

Shoulders tremble and her body feels like it's caving in on her and she feels angry. So angry because Enma left her alone to deal with Julie and Koyo, left her alone with Mami; and for once in Adelheid's life, not that she knows it, she feels exactly what Enma felt.

* * *

Kaoru is away at university. He isn't around, because if he was, he'd save Enma. Kaoru will always save Enma, because isn't that what older brother figures do? Of course he will, it's just that Enma never asked. Enma never told and bullies are sneaky, they kept it hidden, otherwise Kaoru would've done something. He swears it on his gra-

Kaoru can't finish that sentence.

He tries full heartedly to convince himself that he would've done anything as he holds the sobbing Mami to his chest, paranoid that the onlookers were disgusted by him, not knowing that they merely disapproved of such blatant affection. Kaoru would've saved Enma, if he'd just asked.

But deep down he knows. Knows he did nothing, that he closed his eyes and covered his ears as his younger brother figure wailed out for help. He feels bile swimming up his throat and once again, Kaoru closes his eyes.

* * *

Rauji cries. He wails and snot drips down his face and he wonders why he wasn't enough. Imagines a brighter future with Enma, if only he'd picked up his phone, but he saw it was Enma and he didn't pick it up. He let it ring, because he was tired and didn't feel like cleaning Enma's wounds, because usually Enma only called for that reason.

Why's keep floating around his head and he can't understand anything.

Rauji tried so hard, strived to care for Enma as best as possible. He played with his fragile friend, was as loyal as loyal could be. So why is everything so bad? Why didn't he just pick up the phone? Why did he make the wrong decision? Why didn't he just do what's right?

Listening to Enma say goodbye for the umpteenth time, he lays still and wonders why.

* * *

"Hana-chan, daijobu?" Chrome questions softly.

Looking up from her science textbook, Hana loosens her grip on the blade clenched between her finger. Breathing in deeply, Hana looks through her cascading locks and towards her friend. Pushing the dangerous urges away, Hana smiles thinly.

"Hai Chrome-chan, daijobu," is her confident reply.

Blinking in confusion, Chrome nods before looking towards the whiteboard.

Giglio-nero Nosaru smiles grimly down at his best friend, holding him as the thirteen-year-old coughs, tears brimming his dewy eyes, snot falls from Fuuta's face as he struggles to breathe. A tie lays loosely around Fuuta's shoulders while he sobs into his friend, fresh pink marks looping his neck.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I am so sorry, I thought I was better, I-i-i thought it was over..." The words tumble incoherently from his pale lips as he tries to justify himself.

Caressing Fuuta's hair, Nosaru whispers a reply.

"It's alright Fuuta, it's okay, I'm here. Fuuta, calm down please, please listen to me."

Squeezing his eyes shut violently, Fuuta attempts to calm himself, thankful for his best friends presence. Calmer than before, Nosaru finds it entirely appropriate to flick his best friends forehead and laugh maniacally at the small moan that leaves Fuuta's mouth.

Sweat dropping, Fuuta is still pretty grateful for is weird best friend.

Smiling down at his brother Romeo lifts Lambo up and throws him on his shoulders.

"Fratello!" Lambo squeals in excitement, laughing as his brother ran around, thighs clenched around his face as not to fall off.

Giggling from her spot on the ground, Bianchi pulls out the ready-made food, frowning only slightly when she remembers Romeo wouldn't let her cook for their picnic. Probably jealous that her food always held more flavour than his. Letting the frown disappear, Bianchi raises a bottle of water, leans against a tree and sips it languidly.

"Tch, why am I here?" Gokudera Hayato asked moodily, leaning against Bianchi's shoulder.

Shaking her head at her younger brother, Bianchi runs her finger through his silver locks, not missing the way he relaxed at her touch. Glancing down, she pecks his cheek before watching her boyfriend once again, ignoring the protest of, 'Bianchi, I'm an adult now!' from her cute little brother.

Lazily glancing at the sky through half-closed lids, Lampo chuckles to himself softly, happy for his family.

* * *

Three teens smirk to themselves as they finger their markers. Ominously they advance, the shortest of the three smashing the vase with a mirthful smile on his face. The tallest teen sniggers, before pushing the others away. Taking his bright red marker, he writes in ugly, slurred Kanji. Encouraged by their leaders supposedly great insult, the other two, using the same bright red marker deface the desk, filling it with derogatory terms.

"What do you think you're doing?" A cold voice reprimands.

Tensing in fright, they all turn, before relaxing at the sight of the lithe, eccentric teen.

"Huh? P. Shitt? Waddaya want?" The bulky teen attempts to intimidate the eccentric girl.

Glaring at the idiots before her, Shitopi asked once more.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Maa, maa P. Shitt, calm down, we're just helpin' err'one get over their grief, dey all needs a laugh durin' dese tough times," the thick leader replied.

Furious at the mockery they made of her little relatives desk, Shitopi's body convulsed with pure fury.

"How dare you neanderthals desecrate Enma's desk! How dare-" Before her rant can continue, a hand lowers down on her shoulder.

Looking up, Shitopi watches as Julie walks in front of her, Adelheid holding her back. A shout of protest is held back by Adelheids piercing, stern gaze.

* * *

Adelheid scowls, opening her mouth and giving an official warning, futilely trying to hold in any trace of anger.

"You three have just violated rule 23# Section 2, paragraph 16 of the schools code of conduct, by vandalising school property. In accordance I, Suzuki Adeheid hereby give one Katou Julie permission to liquefy you, under the permission of both the school, the trustees board and the liquidation committee."

Before the teens could even give a shout of protest, Julie attacked, avenging and apologising to his younger cousin all at once.

* * *

"Yoroshiku- B-b-boku wa Sawada Tsunayoshi desu." The brunette introduces himself timidly.

Looking up at the rather short teen, Adelheid forces back her surprise double taking, because quite frankly he reminded her so much of-of...Of E-en-enma. A year later and she still can't say his name properly.

"Aaah," clearing her throat, Adelheid stands and bows slightly," yoroshiku Sawada-san, watashi no namae wa Suzuki Adelheid."

"Ohayo Suzuki-san, so, I'm guessing you're my new tutor?" Tsunayoshi laughs out hesitantly, scratching his cheek.

Eyes narrowing, Adelheid catches sight of a fading bruise on his cheek. Suddenly, it's not a stranger before her, but it's Enma and looking at this university student, she sees her Enma. Sees the sadness in his eyes, the lack of self-confidence. Frown deepening Adelheid hopes she won't regret her decision as she speaks gently.

"Hai, I am your tutor, but soon I wish for us to become friends, that is, if you don't mind, Sawada-kun."

Stunned speechless, her failing classmate smiles, nodding dumbly. Finally getting his voice back he replies softly.

"If that is the case, then please, call me Tsuna, Adelheid-san."

"Ano, if you could, I prefer Adel."

Tsuna beams at Adelheid and for once, in a very long time, Adelheid doesn't feel self-conscious, doesn't feel the mistakes marring her existence and doesn't mind being seen.

Nodding, Adelheid pulls her political science book out and they begin their tutoring session.

* * *

Adelheid doesn't know that for the first time since Middle School, Tsuna falls asleep smiling and wakes up content. She doesn't know that he looks in the mirror and smiles at his reflection for the first time in six years. Doesn't know that he refuses to call Amiie that night, because he's tired of receiving bruises from her. Adelheid doesn't know she saved his life, that she arrived just in the nick of time, because any longer and his ill-tempered partner would've killed him had he stayed any longer.

Adelheid doesn't know that she became his hero.

* * *

_That took me so long to write. Anyways, the song 'Hero' belongs to Superchick and is the inspiration for this work. Originally this had lyrics in it, but meh. So, Fuuta is the first verse, Hana the second, Romeo the third and Enma the rap._

_So, yup, thanks for reading this mini-series and yeah, if anything confused you let me know and I'll try and clear it up. Also, I'm sorry, the story became kind of slack by the time I started this chapter, oh, and sorry that I killed Enma, it was a tie between him or Tsuna and I thought, well since I already made 'Sawada' Fuuta suicidal, then making Sawada Tsunayoshi suicidal as well seemed a bit far fetched. Okay, bye. Thank you for reading._


End file.
